


Red

by flippantninny



Series: Bethyl Week [2]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippantninny/pseuds/flippantninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethyl Week Day 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> For the second day of Bethyl Week

Daryl was trying to concentrate on his food. He was trying to concentrate on eating every last crumb, on the taste, the texture, the warmth. It was venison. They hadn’t had deer in a long time, he hadn’t had the chance to go hunting properly since Terminus and Atlanta and Beth, but now they had a camp, temporary though it may be, and he had managed to go hunting. They were eating deer and that deer deserved all of his attention because soon enough they would be back on canned peaches and plain rice and a squirrel or two now and again, and he knew he would regret not appreciating the large venison steak once it was gone.

But how could he focus on food when Beth Greene’s laugh kept finding its way into his ears.

It was inconsiderate of her, really. He had gone out and shot that deer and carried it back to camp, and now everyone was enjoying it except him. And it was her fault, she couldn’t let him enjoy it, couldn’t let him have one evening of peace without consuming his thoughts.

He wanted to throw a tantrum, to tell her to shut up and be quiet and let him have a minute to himself without her name finding its way into his head. He wanted to tell her that it’s only okay for her to laugh like that when it’s with him. Which was ridiculous, of course, because then she would never laugh at all, because he would never get the courage to just sit with her for one night. And it was ridiculous to think not being able to hear her would stop his mind from thinking of her. He had spent enough time away from her recently to know that, if anything, her absence drove him more insane than her presence.

It was like this every night since they had found her. He wanted to sit beside her, to talk to her and tell her everything on his mind, finish the conversation they had started months ago. He wanted to hug her and never let go. He wanted to taste her mouth in his and feel her hands tangle in his hair. But every night he grabbed his dinner and sat on the other side of the fire and made idle conversation with Rick or Michonne or Abraham about the next run or where they would be sleeping the next night. Either that, or he would sit in silence. Trying to ignore those damn laughs coming from Beth damn Greene.

He wanted to sit next to her and tell her everything. Tell her she didn’t just show him good people still existed, but she showed him he could be one of those people. He wanted to tell her she was right, that she did miss her while she was gone. That it was almost unbearable and the only thing that got him through was the knowledge that she would expect him to, because she always expected the best of him, and somehow, for her, he always managed to live up to expectations. Except right now, when she would have expected him not to hide from her. But talking to Beth was scarier than taking down a hundred walkers and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was physically capable of speaking to her anymore, because even when he tried it in his head, it always ended up with him muttering and stuttering and running away.

He glanced up from him plate, his eyes immediately fixing on her. She was talking to Maggie and Bob, and both Greene sisters were laughing at something Bob had said, something about Sasha taking down a walker, he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t been listening to Bob. His ears were trained on her voice and her laugh alone. But it wasn’t fair, Bob had someone to laugh at his jokes and cuddle by the fire, couldn’t he leave Beth so she could stop laughing and he could stop having to listen to it and maybe, just maybe, he could pluck up the courage to actually talk to her himself?

Her hair was almost glowing red in the firelight. The light was flickering on her face, shadows dancing. He thought to himself that she had never looked more beautiful. But he thought that every time he looked at her. Either she was becoming more beautiful every day, or it was Daryl who was changing, falling deeper into this hole of emotions he was feeling for Beth, and he was already deep enough that he knew there was no hope of climbing out, he didn’t know if he could survive falling deeper.

He wanted to tell her about a quote his mother had once told him. He couldn’t recite it, could barely remember it, but there was something about absence and candles and fire and the wind blowing one out and making the other stronger. He wanted to say that ‘Beth Greene, you are a fire,’ and he wanted to make sure she knew that, were the world his, she wouldn’t spend another second out of his sight. But the idea of actually telling her that, of walking across the camp to her and telling her that he would kill every walker on earth if it meant he could get back the days she was absent in his life, just so he could relive them again with her, was terrifying. Fires are terrifying, his mother would attest to that.

She glanced up from her food and the conversation with Bob and for a second their eyes met and his heart fluttered and he wondered if the day would ever come that a second of eye contact from Beth wouldn’t make his heart pound in his chest and the sound of his pulse in his ears grow so loud it was deafening.

She smiled then looked back to Bob, laughing at another of his jokes.

And Daryl thought to himself that tomorrow night, tomorrow night he would sit next to her and tell her the truth, tell her everything. And he almost believed himself.


End file.
